Home, its where your heart is. Or is it? The questions make me tingle with the joy of finding out. You feel safe there, you like it there. Everything familiar is located inside there. It's your private little sanctuary and it keeps you safe from anything outside. Why should you be afraid? I wonder, what if the house isn't the safe place but the last place you should be?

How curious it is how a simple thing can become scary. Oh yeah, real scary. But everything that would want to hurt you is outside. Why would it be inside? Maybe because you aren't looking, or complacent, whose to say? After all I'm not the one in danger or trouble here. It always happens to someone else and yet it can happen to you. Yeah, I'm looking at you right now.

Where am I? That's for you to guess. But you'll never know. Not until it is too late. And it always is. Nothing can keep you safe. I'm inside and there is no chance of getting away. That which keeps the outside from getting in… it's the same thing keeping you inside, heh-heh-heh.

Maybe this isn't anything new to you. You might just be a survivor. Yeah, you aren't new to this; you've gone through this kind of dance so many times you cannot remember. So what? All it takes is one time for that knife to find that sweet spot. And even if you survive, what about what everyone else?

What good is it to be a survivor if everybody close to you is dead? Now doesn't that just make cold, skeletal fingers dance on your spine? It should… and it WILL. Because you cannot save them; all you can do… is WATCH. Heh-heh-heh-heh.